by Jerome du Bois
Major local sleazoid Scott Sanders speaks out of both sides of his mouth about a stale theme in a neat and inadvertent lab experiment in the only two newspapers in town. As a bonus, he and his crew, and Kathy Cone and her crew, continue to enthusiastically promote female humiliation and the disintegration of dignity.
(I simply do not understand the local female artists and their backers, but it's on them. I do not stand for them. I speak for stand-up women, women with human dignity who demand respect. The rest can go wallow for all I care.)
Both these pieces are so short I could copy them both. The piece in the Rep by Richard Nilsen is not so bad when it comes to stinky writing, but the very phrases in the NT article make me sick to my stomach, not to mention Benjamin Leatherman's breathless treacly dishtalk. So go read them, wash your face and hands, and then come back and I'll highlight yet another misogynist's hypocrisy. Finally, I need to point out yet another event that aims to demean women (and men), led by Kathy Cone. Come, read, as downtown grows even more sleazy.
In The Rep, Sanders says,
First Friday usually brings us 500 or so visitors. But this show usually adds a few hundred to that . . . We did it to get people who may not normally go and view the arts. We want to introduce them to what's going on downtown.
In the NT, Sanders says,
Sex fucking sells, and adding in rock and drugs has made this event as successful as it has been, and I'm only hoping it'll continue to grow.
In The Rep, Richard Nilsen writes,
The work, [Sanders] says, is erotic in intent, not pornographic.
In the NT, Benjamin Leatherman describes body painting a female model, and a bunch of other stuff you'll have to read offsite because I hate to even quote that crap. About the spliff mentioned in the NT, both The Rep and the NT acknowledge that the "Drugs" part of the title, and the show, is bogus. The Rep:
The drug content is found in psychedelic, computer-generated designs.
"It's not pictures of people smoking bongs or something like that," he says.
But sex, drugs and rock-and-roll, the anthem of American youth, is as American as cherry pie.
"It's always been right there," Sanders says.
In the NT:
Scott Sanders admits that, untrue to its name, the affair neglects narcotic-related material, and since he can't dole out any doobage, [somebody's] abstract computer-generated psychedelic prints will have to suffice.
I bring up the drug reference for two extended reasons.
First, compare its ridiculous prohibition with the untrammelled license given to exploiting women. Nobody's got any problem with them parading themselves around like meat. Arizona's family newspaper is promoting it, via Richard Nilsen.
Second, just as everybody knows that you live forever once you've done a line or two, everybody knows there's a lot of smoking and snorting going on all over downtown. So it's hypocritical as hell to dodge it, and this points to deficiencies in the other two themes as well.
Sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll are way too significant for these downtown twits.
Sex is the uncanny intersection of yin and yang, a sacred dance. You, Scott Sanders, and your wife Jen, have turned it into sleaze.
Humans have used drugs for fifty thousand years for hundreds of reasons; they, too, can possess great value, as well as great danger -- just like sex.
And for rock-and-roll you want to drag out KISS? Listen, you fools, not a single member of that wilted group is worthy of holding Jimi Hendrix's discarded guitar picks. Rock-and-roll is not hanging your tongue out for empty-headed teenagers. Rock-and-rolll goes like this:
I stand up next to a mountain --
And I chop it down with the edge of my hand.
I'm convinced none of those downtown clowns could summon such strength.
Now, about Kathy Cone and her special event at the end of the month. It's some kind of masquerade which flirts with infidelity. I trashed the email pronto, so I don't have the details to quote you.
Yes, that's right: unbelieveably, she emailed us an invitation to this sleaze ball.
This coarse woman had the damn gall to think that I would expose my beloved and precious wife, who I waited for my whole life, to the drooling leers and verbal slobbering of hard-up strangers! Not to mention that our reclusiveness is well-known, Kathy Cone, so fuck off and don't try to insult us again. By the end of the month you can wallow with the rest of the spineless and clueless, and the trunk labs will have fresh product for everyone by then.
Posted by Jerome at January 6, 2005 04:06 PM | TrackBack